


Smokescreen

by amsch



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Background anne/max, M/M, Magical Realism, liberties taken time-line wise, mentions of gates and miranda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amsch/pseuds/amsch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Circus Nassau is an extraordinary place for unusual people, where things aren't always what they seem. The new fortune teller will fit right in, whether Flint is happy about it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smokescreen

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [pirate_prompts_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pirate_prompts_2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Silver and Flint in the circus. Your choice for the roles they play, but I could see Flint as a strict ringmaster and Silver is the new acrobat/contortionist he has to keep a close eye on. Bonus points for the rest of the main cast being a part of it!
> 
>  
> 
> I switched up the roles and added a little magic because who can resist a magical circus. My first Black Sails fic!

Flint hadn’t really cared about the gritty details of what went on at his circus, even back when it was still _his_ circus. After the trouble with the crew a few months ago, after Gates had died, he’d been relegated to being the owner of Circus Nassau in name only. Now he skulked in the shadows, mostly brooding alone in his caravan, while Jack charmed the crowds as the ringmaster, Eleanor handled the money, and Max did pretty much everything else.

The crew hadn’t been pleased with his continued presence, but given that he was their founder, they reluctantly allowed him to stay. The performers mostly backed him, because they were in a similar position as him: outsiders in the larger world, possessors of unique...talents that made living in the Empire dangerous if not outright deadly.

 

There was a reason Circus Nassau was so famous, a reason why year after year, the Empire tried to quash it’s disruptive presence among it’s citizenry. All of the performers were exceptionally good at what they did. So good that rumors proliferated like spores about just how it was they seemed to defy natural laws. The acrobats flew impossibly high, their bodies somehow insubstantial. The lion trainer was just slightly feral looking, with golden eyes that matched his feline partners. The mermaid that populated the traveling lagoon, a mystery in itself, didn’t ever seem to surface for air. Even the most skeptical of visitors to the circus had to admit that there were no visible wires, or costumes, or trickery. It was all just on the verge of being terrifyingly real.

And the performers found their way to Circus Nassau because of the rumors, most of them seeking to escape persecution. Everyone at the circus had been desperate to survive at some point in their lives, including Flint. He’d earned his name at a young age because of his particular talents with fire. Combined with his red hair, a history of arson and pyromania belied the fact that the fire came from within him, both literally and metaphorically. His fire act had always been one of the most well known, along with Charles Vane and his cats, Anne’s slightly sinister siren act (surely that wasn’t real human flesh?), and Max’s elegantly horrifying contortionism.

* * *

 

He’d been lurking alone in the elephant tent, taking comfort in their peaceful, silent presence, when he heard Max’s voice outside, apparently showing a new hire around.

“Up there is the Big Tent, you will have seen inside when you entered. These tents are for the animals. I would advise against entering most of them unless the animals have given you permission. You understand what I mean by this?”

There was a pause, and Flint heard a murmur of assent as the voices stopped at the intersection.

“To your left is the performers’ caravans and tents for certain acts. This is where your tent will be. To your right is the camp where the crew live. Again, it is not advisable to go wandering where you have not been invited. The crew will not be welcoming to someone of your specific talents.”

A slightly snarky, definitely male chuckle made Flint fight to suppress his curiosity. It wasn’t his business anymore. He should just stay here, come across the new recruit in a few days or weeks or possibly never. Definitely never. That would be best for everyone.

He stepped out of the tent into the path. Max started at his sudden appearance but quickly recovered, turning to the man next to her.

“This is Flint, the owner of Circus Nassau. Flint, meet Silver, our new fortune teller.”

Flint grunted as the man stepped out of the shadow of the tent, holding out a darkly tanned hand that Flint reluctantly grasped. His eyes were an impossible color under a mop of dark curls. Were they blue? Grey? His smile had too many teeth.

“Silver. I like to think,” he said.

Had he just answered-? Coincidence? The smile was still there, but now it had an edge to it, an edge that said, _I see more than you know. I see your secrets_.

“And you certainly have many,” he purred. Flint yanked his hand back and wiped it across his coat.

Max’s gaze was darting between them, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I take it you see why I hired him now. He has some very special talents I think our guests will, shall we say, enjoy.”

Flint found Silver’s talent decidedly unenjoyable, and gave Max a look that said this.

“Welcome to Circus Nassau,” he spat at Silver, and spun on his heel, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking.

 

* * *

 

Over the next week, he watched guests and performers alike emerge from Silver’s dark tent shaken, enraged, freed, lost...they entered with trepidation, and came out transformed. Vane stomped out of the tent and kicked over a barrel, growling. Eleanor came out looking more like the little girl he’d first known than he’d seen in a long time. He watched as Anne strode out of the tent, making a beeline to where Max was talking to Billy, shoved him aside, and planted her lips on Max’s. Max returned the kiss, grinning, and Flint tore his eyes away, looking anywhere that wasn’t the pure joy on the two women’s faces. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck, and turned to see Silver standing in the doorway of his tent across the way, staring straight at Flint. The cocky set of his shoulders, the casual sway of his hips made Flint’s fingers tingle. He went back into his tent and lit a few bales of hay on fire, letting the fire roll up his arms and dance along his shoulders. It didn’t help.

 

As it turned out, Flint didn’t get a say in the matter of avoiding the psychic. Silver was sitting in Flint’s single chair when he returned from his act the next night. Tipped back on two legs, with his feet propped on the small table, he laced his fingers behind his head and smiled at Flint, who had stopped dead in his tracks.

“I got tired of waiting for you to come to me, so I came to you.” He let the chair fall back on all four legs.

“Get the fuck out.”

“You’re smoking,” Silver pointed out innocently. Curls of smoke were twisting between them, rising off Flint’s coat and from the black footprints he’d left in the dirt.

“Hazard of the job.”

“You had to know we’d talk eventually.”

“I’m not letting a fucking mindreader anywhere near me.”

“Too late.” Silver stood up, pivoting so Flint was cornered against the wall. His smile vanished. “Your secrets, your pain - they reek. I can feel them everywhere in this place. Every corner, every shadow, it has too much of you for me to ignore. I try to sleep, and your sadness gnaws at me.”

“Leave, then.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. Do you know how I found your circus? I was minding my own business, well - technically I can never mind my own business because of you know - the psychic thing - but just going along, until I heard you. I came across someone who knew you and I knew that we were linked. Other people might call it fate or destiny - myself, I don’t believe in those things. I’m a shockingly pragmatic psychic.”

Silver stepped back, allowing Flint to perch on the edge of the bed. He rested his head in his hands, feeling immeasurably tired. He was so goddamn tired. What Silver was saying - the weight of his own pain, somehow manifested in the shadows of the circus - it rang true.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just knew I needed to come find you. And it was like tracking Billy through a dollhouse - very easy,” he added when Flint didn’t react.

“And who was it you met that led you to me?”

“Her name is Miranda.” Flint surged to his feet, grabbing Silver’s shirt in his fist in the same motion.

“Where did you see her? Is she-did she-” The words collapsed in his throat.

Silver eased his fingers off his shirt, wincing as he noticed the scorch marks Flint had inadvertently left. “She sent me to find you. To help you. She didn’t want you to be alone.”

They were still standing uncomfortably close. Flint realized Silver’s fingers were lingering on his, cool against his hot skin, lulling him into forgetting what that touch meant. He pulled away, more gently than before. Silver’s eyes were still fixed on his, piercing.

“I will help you,” he whispered, and vanished into the shadows, leaving Flint’s question hanging in the air, like a drift of smoke that traced cool fingertips across his lips and promised more to come.


End file.
